Chapter 380: Hubris

“Forward, men! Whoever breaks their ranks first will be a hero! Onto glory!” All around Lord Maygua, his warriors replied to his passionate speech with endless cheers. Their smiles beamed as they climbed up the snow-covered slope. Even the lord himself wanted to look up to the sky and laugh out loud at the ease of their imminent victory, though unfortunately he had to embody the calm gravitas of a leader. Still, he had every reason to be giddy.

Idiot northerners. This is why you could never break the south.

The more of the commoners driven in front of his army he watched get mowed down by the enemy fire, the more his mood improved. Everyone knew that the weapons of Saniya were dangerous even against the heavy armor of their warriors. However, some solid bodies in front of them would still make for excellent shields. Even if the bodies of the commoners were penetrated by fire, at least they made for some decent sight cover. The method to break the little king’s commoner army was just that simple. So how, in all their wars against King Corco, had the northerners never thought to use commoners as shields?

Every time one of their commoner skirmishers fell, it meant one bullet fewer their enemies could fire at them, and it meant one step fewer for his men to close the distance. So far, their core troops had sustained almost no losses, yet they were already halfway up the hill.

Soon, they would break into the enemy ranks, well-rested and in full strength. Then the battle would become a melee, the specialty of Medala’s warriors and the weakness of the poor commoners who held those fancy weapons on the other side.

Really, it is almost a disappointment how easy it is.

Now that he fought them himself, Maygua didn’t know what the fuss was about with this younger generation of lords that had been making waves on the Twin Isles these years. Ever since the Succession War, political conflict between lords had been focused on a few younger figures who were meant to decide the future of Medala between themselves. Now all of them had proven disappointing to the old lord.

Mayu Saqartu, the governor who could govern nothing, was as much a leader as Maygua’s spoiled daughter was, maybe less so. A coward and a turncoat, he had inherited none of his noble father’s integrity, nor any of his ability. All he had to his name was a meaningless title and some failed ploys to claim things that weren’t his.

Meanwhile, a little trick like the commoner sacrifice right now was enough to destroy all of King Corcopaca’s plans. Not even a miracle would save him this time. For all the stories of the king’s military genius, he seemed to be unable to adjust once someone found a counter to his single trick.

This also didn’t reflect well on the so-called hero king Pachacutec, who had fought Corco many times and had never managed a proper victory.

No matter their heritage, they are just children in the end.

Eager for success, to prove his worth, Maygua looked to his left to check how far up the hill Lord Curichi’s troops had made it. Like all the other lords, Maygua wanted to guarantee that his men would be the first into the fray. This way, he could claim the largest portion of the spoils after a victory, and he would gain the greatest recognition as well.

To his glee, Maygua found the army of Lord Curichi that had kept pace with his for so long was now lagging behind. Only a few dozen steps for now, but they seemed disorganized, and had lost all of their momentum. To the old lord’s surprise, the same image was repeated to his right. It seemed as if for no particular reason, all the warriors around him had lost their enthusiasm.

“Cowards! Control your men!”

He shouted even though his fellow lords wouldn’t be able to hear him over the noise of battle. Still, he had to vent his anger somehow. If he was only a few steps ahead of the rest, he would be happy to have outdone his fellow lords. However, if everyone else lagged behind this far, things would get dangerous. Out in front on their own, his men would be easy to surround without support from their flanks. Not to mention that the most forward position on the battlefield would become the main target for enemy fire, and their own advance would get tougher as a result.

As if on command, a stray bullet brushed past Lord Maygua’s shoulder, grazing his robes. He looked back and saw the small cloud of white had exploded out of the snow-covered ground. Still, Maygua remained undeterred.

Even with the more concentrated fire, most of the shots were being blocked by their commoners in front. Still,those royal soldiers shot so much, one or two stray bullets were bound to hit them, right?

Even if they did, there was no cause for alarm. If they somehow chanced through several rows of warriors in front of him, what was the chance that he would actually get hit? And even when he was hit, what was the chance the hit would be at a lethal part?

At the foot of the hill, Maygua’s attendant had also been caught by a shot to the shoulder. Without his axe arm, he couldn’t continue on and would have to sit out this battle. Still, after some recovery, he would be fine. He had been unlucky, but it was only a small snag in his career. At worst, he would lose the chance to distinguish himself today. It was a risk worth taking, considering the potential reward for a successful charge.

As he looked ahead again to continue his charge, Maygua saw that the lines of his commoners had thinned out a lot under the heavy fire. But at the same time, he saw that his first warriors had made contact with the enemy. As expected, he would be the first to glory today. If his fellows didn’t want that little king’s head, he would take it himself.

Now all they needed was some grit to hold out while they waited for their tardy allies to catch back up. Maygua gripped his axe tight, lowered his body, and got ready for his own charge into the lines. He was close to the front already. Now it was time to show his bravery, inspire his troops, and gain some merit.

Boom

Another bullet out of nowhere interrupted his thoughts, and his field of vision blurred. His axe fell, but his numbed body barely noticed. Mechanically, his hand went up to the right eye that had suddenly lost its vision. When it came back to his remaining good eye, he saw his heavy glove covered in thick, gooey blood. Even on the bright red metal of his gauntlets, the blood stood out like ruby on cinnabar.

This time, the lead ball had hit his eye, and everything behind it. Without thought, for all thoughts had been erased, he tried to make another step forward, towards his enemy, towards glory. Yet his unsteady feet slipped, and he fell backwards.

As he slid back down the hill he had taken so much effort to climb, he realized that none of it had been a coincidence. His attendant hadn’t been hit by a stray shot, and the other lords hadn’t fallen behind because they were cowards. Most likely, they were already injured, or dead like he would be in a few seconds. His commoner fodder plan had been pointless. From the very start, the king’s men had been aiming only at the lords alone.

Back when Lord Ogulno had offended his nephew Corco for the first time, he hadn’t been driven by mindless arrogance. After all, this new king had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and claimed to rule over them all. That had already been bad enough. They had already had a governor who was meant to be their organizational core. Even better, their governor had just been replaced by someone incompetent.

Yet just as his annoying brother-in-law had died to leave his estate to his weak and easily manipulated son, someone appeared who would have even greater powers over them than the old Governor Saqartu had had. Not to mention, their new king was a northerner as well.

Though at the time, most lords didn’t care, they couldn’t see the danger they had been in. Although they had been ruled by a governor before, he hadn’t had much real power over them. They expected the king to be the same, and his new estate wasn’t coming out of their own lands. Not to mention, the arrangement of the three kings was temporary, and the chances for the southern king were the smallest. So why should they bother with a person who would not be relevant for much longer?

Then, their new king had suddenly demanded of them to send their warriors in support of an empty war that he had caused himself, a war that the lords had no part in. At that point, Corco had looked weak and isolated.

He was in charge of a small army made up of mostly commoners, with no local support in Medala after years of exile, and weak legitimacy. His territory was made up of the leftovers that House Pluritac no longer wanted, no more than some bog around a tiny, irrelevant town on the edge of the empire. To Ogulno, it had seemed like a safe move to offend his nephew who was opposed by most of the empire and would not last a year in his position. They weren’t even related by blood after all, he was only his sister-in-law’s son.

By opposing Corco, he would weaken the king and thus support his favorite nephew Mayu. Unlike the distantly related Corco, Mayu was the son of Ogulno’s good sister Guanca. Furthermore, he controlled the powerful Puscanacra estate of House Saqartu, and he was the Governor of the South. Even before the civil war had granted them the title, the Saqartus had been the real leaders of the southern lords for centuries.

As far as Ogulno was concerned, a power struggle between his nephews was unavoidable, and the governor was very likely to win it against their king. By then, Lord Ogulno would reap all the benefits as the first lord to publicly support Mayu.

All throughout these years, he had still thought that he would be proven right in the end. After three years of operations, Corco still had a weak power basis in the south, with no family to back him. Even as he had made all his money, the king had also made more and more enemies. Up until the most recent events, Ogulno had thought that his choice back then had been right, and that his side was still favorites to win their conflict.

Now, finally, the copper lord was regretting his decision. He had been placed on the sideline of the war, far out on the left flank, most likely as a petty punishment by his unreliable nephew Mayu. Yet he felt no shame about this position that was safe, but promised no glory. Rather, he felt grateful that he could watch the battle unfold without being involved in it. After all, the moment which was supposed to usher in true independence for the lords of the south had turned into an absolute disaster.

Half their troops never even made it up the hill. The ones that did so were slow and disjointed. The army of the league had barely made contact with Corco’s troops, and they were already falling apart. A few of them were still storming uphill, while others were already rushing back. Others still were stuck halfway up the mountain, standing in place with no idea what to do.

He hadn’t hoped for much from Mayu’s leadership qualities, not after witnessing years of his incompetence, but he still hadn’t expected such total chaos, not in his worst nightmares. To his luck, his nephew had placed him far away from danger.

This hopeless battle was already over and lost. There was no more reason to stay. At least now, he could minimize losses to his own men.

“We retreat,” he announced to his attendant.

If he left now, he would most likely die as well, eventually. After his retreat, he would suffer relentless pursuit from the troops of his nasty nephew Corco, who wanted him dead for various, petty reasons. But at least this way, there was still some slim hope. Away from the cannons and rifles of the enemy, he would still have room to maneuver. Maybe he was just a coward for leaving his allies behind to die on this hill, but he no longer cared. Any chance was better than none at all.

Thus, without even making contact with the enemy, the one who had caused the pointless civil war, and all the senseless death, fled away, to fight another day.

After his final shot, Alcer put down the barrel that was hot to the touch despite the freezing cold around him. With great satisfaction, he watched their broken enemies rout and flee into the distance. Now, his work was done. The pursuit and capture of their routed foes would be down to other.

For him, this could be considered a good ending of his time as a soldiers. Surely, there would be no more major battles left in this war after such a resounding victory. Alcer slung the hot rifle over his shoulder, and thus concluded the first battle in the conflict that would later be known as the ‘Lightning War’.